


Seeking Flames

by KoraKwidditch, StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Chudley Cannons, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Ron Weasley, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ron Weasley, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: Dropped from the Appleby Arrows after the incident, Draco Malfoy has no choice but to accept the Chudley Cannon's offer. Their Keeper-Ron Weasley with his red-hot temper-ensures that he will never be fully accepted.Trying to navigate an increasing dependence on alcohol, avoid the incident coming to light, and stop himself ragging on Weaselbee is proving to be harder than he thought. With his life falling into shambles, his parents only make it worse with their profuse denial of his sexuality. They throw witches at his every left turn in an attempt to set him back to the "right path."All Draco wanted to do was play Quidditch.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 49





	1. The Trade Deal

**Author's Note:**

> KoraKunkel: Hi everyone!! I'm so excited to share this first chapter of Seeking Flames with you! This story idea came to Nessie and I quite randomly and we decided it would be the perfect opportunity to co-write something together! This is also my first time doing slash and I'm really looking forward to it!
> 
> Each chapter will swap POV's, Nessie will be writing Ron's POV and I will be writing Draco's! We will mark each chapter with the person's POV as well, to avoid confusion. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Also, if this is the first time you are reading Dron, I HIGHLY recommend you head to StoriesbyNessie's page and read some of her works! They are fantastic!

**Chapter One: The Trade Deal**

_Draco_

“So, once you sign this you will officially be the Seeker for the Chudley Cannons. Do you understand the terms of the contract?” 

Draco pressed his lips together and glared at the stack of papers in front of him. He understood the terms of the contract perfectly, he just didn’t want to sign them. Belonging to the fucking Chudley Cannons was something he certainly did not want, especially since he’d have to wear bloody fucking  _ orange.  _

“Yes.” he hissed out through gritted teeth.

His family's lawyer, Gerald Astor, handed him a quill and inkwell and pointed to the bottom of the top page. “Then just sign here, and we can get your money transferred to your Gringotts vault.”

Draco gripped the quill a little too tightly in his hand, and the feather snapped in two. Astor sighed next to him and grabbed another. The Cannons lawyer—whose name Draco couldn’t remember if his life depended on it—sat across the table with a large, stupid grin on his face.

Their coach and manager, Ragmar Dorkins, sat next to him and eyed Draco warily, probably confused as to why he was so hesitant. 

Astor turned in his seat to whisper to Draco so the pair across the table couldn’t hear him. “You don’t have much of a choice, Draco. It’s either this or your quidditch career is done. None of the other teams want to sign you after the  _ incident. _ ”

Draco clenched his now empty fist on the table, anger increasing ten-fold. He knew no one else wanted to sign him because he had Astor go to every other team. The Chudley Cannons was a last-ditch effort, and they had accepted him gratefully, dropping their completely terrible excuse of a Seeker in favour of him. They had even offered him a pretty decent five-year contract that came with a hefty sum. It wasn’t as much as what the Appleby Arrows had been paying him, but he expected he was probably going to be one of the highest-paid members on the Cannons. 

“Now,” Astor handed him the new quill and pointed again to the bottom of the page. “Sign.” 

Reluctantly, Draco scribbled his name down, the elegant handwriting staring at him from the page mockingly.

Astor clapped him on the shoulder, and both lawyers stood to shake hands. The Cannon’s lawyer, with his stupid fat mitts, shook Draco’s too hard and nearly ripped his arm from the socket. 

“Great! Draco, will I be seeing you at the party tonight?” Ragmar asked while the Cannon’s lawyer reached across the table to collect the signed papers. His thick fingers gripped his wand as he tapped the parchment to shrink them and tucked them into his robes.

Draco glanced at Astor with a pleading look. He wanted to do anything but go to this stupid party, but his lawyer only smiled and said they would both be there. Of course they fucking would, they had a lot of positive PR to make up for. 

“Capital, gentlemen, capital! Are we ready to face the sharks?” The Cannon’s lawyer asked, patting the sweat from his bald head with a handkerchief. Draco wrinkled his nose when he stuck the now damp cloth back into his pocket. He must have mistaken Draco’s disgust for being aimed at the press because he gave a small laugh. 

“Don’t worry, my boy! As a member of the Chudley Cannons, Mr Astor and I both work for you now! You’ll have double representation out there.” 

_ Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.  _

With a tight-lipped smile aimed at the heavy-set man, Draco followed the group as they left the room to the press conference. 

As soon as they stepped into the main room, camera flashes and people hurling questions surrounded them. Astor guided Draco towards a table set up at the front of the room where the four of them sat in the chairs placed behind it. Ragmar held up a hand and the press quieted. 

“Hello, all! As you know my name is Ragmar Dorkins, I am the coach and manager of the Chudley Cannons. This is the Cannon’s lawyer, Ted Grossman and Draco Malfoy’s lawyer, Gerald Astor. And of course, you all know Draco Malfoy.” He gestured to each man in turn. “I would like to inform you all as of today, the fifth of August 2005, Mr Malfoy has been made a member of the Chudley Cannons team!”

His words were met with a volley of questions and even more flashes, but he held his hand up in the air and they quieted again. “We will be taking a few questions, but please, one at a time.” 

Of course, fucking Rita Skeeter called her question out first, her irritating, shrill voice echoed in the room. She had run a smear campaign for weeks after Draco was dropped from the Appleby Arrows, and once the Daily Prophet picked up a story, you can bet Merlin’s left ball sack every other paper did as well. 

“Draco, what assurances have you given the Chudley Cannons that you won’t fight one of _ their  _ players?” Her bright red lips curled into a sickeningly sweet smile that had Draco’s blood boiling.

_ That bitch. _

Thankfully, Astor answered for him because all Draco wanted to do was jump across the table and rip that smirk from her face. “Mr Malfoy has been taking anger management classes, and we can assure everyone that there will not be a repeat incident.” 

“Incident as in when Draco nearly pummelled poor Alexander Hale to death?” 

Draco stiffened in his chair. He had expected that to be brought up, but hearing the words hurled at him like everything was his fault... If only they knew the truth. That fucking piece of shit Hale, he deserved what he got. If Draco could do it all over again, he would’ve given it even worse. It had only been four months since he had beat the daylights out of that bastard and he was disappointed that his knuckles had healed so quickly.

“We will not be commenting on that at this time.” It was the only response Astor could give to a question like that, but it seemed to ignite something in the other reporters, and they all started shouting over each other.

Rita crossed her arms and sat back with a self-satisfied smile, her Quick Quotes Quill scribbled furiously from where it floated next to her head. She gave Draco a wink through all the commotion, and he balled his fists under the table. 

_ I need a fucking drink. _

He took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on a spot on the back wall like that stupid fucking anger management class taught him. Had he not been trying to calm himself down, it would’ve pissed him off how well it was working. 

“Mr Dorkins, are you concerned at all of Draco’s Death Eater past? As Ronald Weasley is the Chudley Cannons current Keeper, do you expect any animosity to emerge between them and if so, how do you plan to combat that?” 

Draco stared wide-eyed at the reporter that asked that question; fucking reporters, they had absolutely no filter. He was sure Weasel was absolutely  _ ecstatic _ to have Draco joining; they would be best fucking friends by the end of the season. 

He nearly snorted at his own joke.

Ragmar cleared his throat awkwardly before answering; he was obviously not expecting a question like that. “Mr Weasley has fully accepted Mr Malfoy as the new Seeker. They will be teammates, and as such, there will be no hostility between them. Mr Malfoy has been the Arrow’s Seeker for over five years and won them two League Cups, the entire team is very excited to have him.”

Draco forced himself to keep a neutral face and not scowl at his words. He could only imagine how excited the Chudley Cannons were to have him joining the team. They’ve been in the bottom of the League for over a century and even dropped their current Seeker, Galvin Gudgeon, to add Draco to the team. 

_ I’m so fucking thrilled. _

He sat in silence for the rest of the interview while Ragmar and Astor answered all the questions for him. At the very end, Ragmar handed him his new Chudley Cannon jersey, and they shook hands for a picture that was sure to be on the front cover of every newspaper tomorrow. 

Now back in his flat, he stared at the ugly orange thing draped over the back of a dining room chair. The large white number two and his last name stretched across the back made him want to puke. He was going to look like a glorified pumpkin in that thing. 

Draco sighed and downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness that came from being a little tipsy filled his head. He wasn’t an alcoholic; he could stop whenever he wanted. It was just going to be easier to get through this fucking party if he was already half-plastered before going. He knew that his parents expected him to do damage control, but that didn’t mean he had to be sober for it.

Slipping on his dress robes and damning Gerald Astor and his parents for making him go to this damned thing, he Floo’d to the party. 

Moments later, he stepped through the green flames of the fireplace. It had placed him in the foyer of an immaculate home, though not quite as opulent as Malfoy Manor was. The flooring was made of what he assumed was a dark oak and the walls were a homely grey. Various statues and plants filled the room, and though giving an air of richness, it still felt comfortable. 

“Draco, there you are! Thought you might have gotten lost.” Astor greeted with a smile from nearby.

_ Wished I would have, but then I’d have to listen to my parents tell me off. _

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with, shall we? I don’t fancy being here longer than I need to.” Draco said as Astor led them into the main room of the house. The oak floors continued into a large sitting room with vaulted ceilings. There had to have been at least 50 people milling amongst the expensive-looking furniture, and he could spy even more standing outside in the garden through the glass doors. 

“Ah, Draco! Good to see you again.” Ragmar came forward and shook his hand. “Ready for practice tomorrow?” 

“Of course.” Draco forced out, the lie burning his throat. The very last thing he was ready for was practice tomorrow. 

“Great! Let’s get you introduced to the team. Do you need a drink?” 

Draco nodded all too enthusiastically and was handed a glass of firewhiskey on the rocks a moment later. Frowning at the ice watering down his drink, he took a sip and tried not to down it all in one gulp. 

Ragmar led them around the room, introducing him to various people that Draco couldn’t give a rat’s arse about and whose names he forgot by the time they moved on to the next. He didn’t really understand why he needed to be introduced to these people or even the team for that matter. He already knew all the Chudley Cannons members, having played against them for the last five years. All he wanted to do was crawl back to his flat and drink himself to sleep, but the weight of his lawyer’s hand on his shoulder as they walked about the room reminded him he had to stay. Had to play the perfect Malfoy prince. 

Their small group approached the back of a very tall, wide-shouldered man that Draco recognized as the Captain and Chaser for the Cannons, Aiden Cooney. They were the same age and he wasn’t much taller, but his muscular body instantly made Draco feel like a small child with his slender physique. Of course, he was surrounded by women, all angling for a chance to get into his trousers.

“Draco, meet your Captain, Aiden Cooney.” Ragmar introduced them, and they both shook hands. Aiden gave him a lop-sided grin that had Draco’s stomach flipping. The man was quite handsome with his curly, dirty-blonde hair and dark brown eyes. The smile caused a dimple to form on his left cheek that only increased his attractiveness. Maybe the Chudley Cannons wouldn’t be so bad. 

_ Stop it, Draco. You can’t fancy your teammates. You know what happened last time.  _

“Nice to formally meet you, Malfoy. Can’t wait to see you in action tomorrow, you always gave Gudgeon a run for his money.” 

Draco snorted, “As if it was much of a challenge. I’m pretty sure that bloke was near-sighted.”

The group that surrounded him laughed as if he had just told the joke of a century. Draco scowled at the people on the outskirts of their conversation. He was all too familiar with the leeches that came with the profession, always trying to get this or that—whether it be money, cock or both. 

Aiden gave him a tight-lipped smile as if to say he understood, and they parted ways when Ragmar gestured for him to continue through the room. Draco downed the rest of the contents of his glass, and before he could even mention something to Ragmar about a fresh drink, it was refilled by a floating bottle. A house-elf stood off to the side, dressed in the familiar rags of indentured servitude, and he gave a small bow to Draco as the bottle floated back to the bar. 

Draco inclined his head in return, much to the surprise of the house-elf, before turning back to Ragmar. They were now closer to the patio doors, and Draco could see just as many people outside as there were inside. Balls of fae-light floated through the air, making the whole scene look quite charming. All Draco wanted to do was turn tail and run; he really hated these fucking parties. 

“Draco, this is Kit Dufort and Olivia Greene, the Cannon’s Beaters.” 

Ragmar’s voice pulled him from his inspection of the exterior, and his eyes shot open in surprise at the pair in front of him. Truthfully, he hadn’t seen many of the other team’s players off their brooms, so he had no idea what most of them looked like standing up. He was quite surprised to find Olivia was only a few inches shorter than him while Kit was almost half his size. Was he part-goblin? Would it be rude to ask? 

Olivia flipped her light brunette hair over her shoulder and shook Draco’s hand. “Dufort and I are very easy Beaters to work with. Don’t get in the bludger’s way and we won’t have any problems, yeah?” 

Draco blinked, it was like he was looking at a much taller, brown-haired version of Ginny Weasley. Suddenly overcome with the urge to call this woman Weasellete, he had to stop himself before he accidentally blurted it out. Kit shook his hand next, the stocky, strong arms nearly twice the size of Draco’s. 

He only nodded in greeting, obviously a man of few words. Ragmar gave the short man a look as if to say ‘be nice’, but it was fine with Draco, he preferred to do as little talking as possible. 

After a small, dull conversation that Draco participated very little in, they left the pair to retreat outside in search of the rest of the team. The only ones left were Chasers Elijah Haywood and Zachary Wallace, and of course, he couldn’t forget their Keeper Weaselbee. He couldn’t decide if he was looking forward to that introduction or not. 

Elijah they found easily enough, the nineteen-year-old living up to his immature age and participating in a drinking game near the outdoor bar. A crowd surrounded him, chanting his name as he sucked a body shot off a very willing woman. Draco grimaced when Elijah noisily slurped the alcohol from the giggling witch’s belly-button. His black hair fell across her stomach, and when he sat up after drinking it, his hazel eyes twinkled mischievously amongst the cheers surrounding him. 

_ Great, a party boy.  _

Elijah had just been added to the Cannons last year. His skill as a Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team was well-known, but his lack of discipline and renown as a glorified walking butterbeer was even more so. It ensured he had very few offers once he applied to the British Quidditch League and was forced to accept the Chudley Cannons’.

“Y’all ain’t ready for this next one!” An American accent cut through the cheers, and Draco found the source instantly. It wasn’t hard to miss a cowboy hat amongst a crowd of English. Zachary Wallace, the only American in the British League stood next to Elijah, holding a bottle of what looked like Dragon Barrel Brandy in the air. 

Draco had forgotten how low the Cannons had sunk that they had to resort to outsourcing their players from fucking  _ America. _ He could spy the tendrils of long brown hair from under that ridiculous tan hat, and when he winked his turquoise eyes at the fangirls in the crowd, Draco swore he heard them swoon.

Ragmar whistled next to him, the sharp sound cutting through the crowd like a whip. Obviously reluctant to break from the group and alcohol, Elijah and Zachary slowly made their way over. Once they had seen Draco standing with him, however, they instantly turned into the fangirls they had just left. 

“Draco Malfoy! Wow, so nice to meet you!” Elijah all too enthusiastically shook his hand, Zachary following right after. 

Flexing his fingers to bring the feeling back into them, Draco bit back the insult that nearly rolled from his tongue. They were going to be his teammates, and he couldn’t have them hating him before they even had the chance to practice together. 

“Likewise.”  _ There, that was a satisfactory reply, right?  _ The glance of approval Astor gave him made him think so. 

“Oh, man! This is so cool, I used to have your trading card! And now we’ll be playing together!” 

Though only six years older than Elijah, his comment made Draco suddenly feel very old. At least he wasn’t the oldest, that belonged to Kit at twenty-nine, and he was pretty sure all the other players were in their twenties as well. 

“I remember that match y’all had last year against the Harpies, where you caught the snitch in under twenty minutes!” Zachary said in his southern accent. “Their Seeker was madder than a wet hen. Bet she coulda chewed up nails and spit out a barbed-wire fence!” 

Draco stared at him like he had ten heads while he laughed at what was apparently a joke. Was that... was that  _ English?  _

Elijah clapped him on the shoulder, his olive-skin contrasting against the dark blue tee Zachary wore. “Sorry. Zach can be a bit too American at times, he likes to speak in riddles.”

“They’re sayin’s, Eli. ‘Sides, Draco understood me, right, bud?” 

Draco arched an eyebrow at the nickname. Never in his twenty-five years of life had anyone ever called him _ bud.  _ Astor must have seen the look of annoyance in Draco’s face because he quickly struck up a conversation with the two Chasers. 

Taking a deep breath, Draco scanned the other guests scattering the lawn. He needed to get a handle on his anger and continued his breathing exercise while trying to focus on anything other than the southern twang leaving Zachary’s large, stupid mouth. 

From the other side of the yard, he spied the familiar width of Aiden, minus his entourage—though a few females still mingled nearby eyeing him like a buffet. Someone was standing with him, but with the darkness settling in around them, Draco couldn’t quite make out who it was. It was obviously a man, as the figure was taller than Aiden, though not as muscular. A ball of fae-light floated past them, illuminating their silhouettes and he was finally able to make out the wizard speaking to Aiden. The red-hair and freckled face was unmistakable. 

_ Weasley.  _

Apparently, Ragmar caught him looking because they broke from the exhibitionists—much to the delight of their awaiting crowd—and made their way over to the pair. As they neared, Draco could see a large toothy grin spread across the red-heads face as he spoke to the blonde.

_ Bet he loves to suck up to the Captain. Just like in school.  _

Blue eyes made even brighter by the ball of fae-light near them, Ron flickered his gaze to the approaching trio. The smile instantly vanished from his face as he discovered Draco amongst them. The extremely obvious carefree stance he had been sporting while speaking with Aiden, turned rigid and hostile at Draco’s presence. 

For some reason, this infuriated Draco, and he suddenly found himself looking for a way to strike out. With a wavering gaze to Aiden—who was smiling at Draco—Weasley showed his weakness. 

_ Must have been angling for something. Two can play at this game, and I’m probably better. _

“Hello again, Aiden.” Draco greeted the Captain with a sultry smirk. His fourth glass of firewhiskey was making his head swim in that familiar puddle, and his smile might have been a bit sweeter than what he intended. But Weasley’s glare told him it had worked and he felt satisfaction bloom in his chest. 

“Oh, Weasley. Didn’t see you there.” 

The blue-eyed glare turned even more menacing at Draco’s greeting, and he tried to bite back a chuckle. Stoking the flames of Weaselbee’s anger had been a favourite pastime of his, and it had been years since he had the chance to do so. With a reddened face, Weasley spat out his reply. 

“You better watch out, Malfoy. From what I hear you’re supposed to play nice, or you might get kicked off the team. Wouldn’t want you to  _ fight _ someone.”

He sneered at Weasley’s words before steeling himself. Draco picked an invisible piece of lint off his black jacket; he couldn’t let Weasley get the better of him. Opening his mouth with the intent of hitting him where it hurt, he stopped himself as a hand landed on his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. Draco gave Astor a vicious glance and his lawyer eyed him as if to say ‘watch yourself.’

The triumphant grin only lasted for a moment on the red-heads face until his coach began to lay into him. It was like being at Hogwarts all over again, listening to a teacher yell at Weasley for something Draco started, and he was all too happy to listen to it.

“Weasley, when we signed Malfoy on, you agreed that you could handle yourself. Are you going back on that?” Ragmar glowered at him, and Draco could see Ron shrink like a child under his stare. 

“No, Sir.” He mumbled out, face turning eight shades of scarlet as he looked to the ground and chewed on his lip nervously.

“You’re a damn good Keeper, so I won’t drop you if you act out, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe from drills.” The coach threatened with crossed arms. 

The red-head nodded, and before Astor could continue to chastise him, a shout across the garden turned the party towards it. 

“Aiden! We need your opinion on something, would you come here please?” A drop-dead gorgeous blonde witch stood with a group of giggling females, waving the Captain over. 

Shooting the men an apologetic look, Aiden approached them, their giggles increasing as he smiled. 

Draco was all too happy that his reputation of being cold-hearted kept the women from dangling off him. He had made one too many cry when they tried to get into his bed. All they wanted was his fame anyway, to use as a means of furthering themselves. No, his lovers had always been secretive and discreet. 

_ And men.  _

It was his best-kept secret that he was gay. Almost no one knew of it except for his parents and lawyer. Even they had been as oblivious as the rest of the world until the  _ incident.  _ Now, his parents were always adamantly trying to convert him and set him up with some witch or another. It annoyed him to no end, and he’d have the whole bloody world know of his sexual preference if it wasn’t for the assured scandal it would cause. 

At least, that’s what his mother told him. Draco was always reminded of how hard Astor had worked to keep what had happened those few months ago a secret. 

And his parents had paid them very handsomely to keep their giant trap shut.

With Aiden now gone, Weasley’s interest in continuing the conversation deflated immediately. After a moment of awkward silence, he excused himself to retreat inside. Draco ignored the feeling of annoyance that sprouted as he watched the red-head all but run inside.

“Well, I’ll leave you to mingle, Draco. See you bright and early tomorrow! We’re all excited to have you as part of the team.” Ragnar smiled and left as well, following the same path as Weasley. 

“See, this wasn’t so bad,” Astor said once they were alone. “You behaved very well tonight.” 

_ Great, now go run along and give my parents all the details.  _

“Yes, I’ll give myself a fucking pat on the back,” Draco replied sarcastically before downing his drink. “If I’m done playing nice, I’m leaving.” 

Astor sighed, “Well, at least you kept up the facade around your new teammates. Very well, you can go. Try to get some rest and behave tomorrow!” 

Draco was all too eager to leave and he eagerly escaped to the interior, downing his fifth glass of firewhiskey while he walked. He barely even registered the faces that passed him as he made his way to the Floos. 

Once back in his flat, he took a moment to relish in the silence. He preferred his solitude—he didn’t have to worry about anything here. Not being nearly as drunk as he wanted to, he Accio’d a bottle of his preferred liquor—vodka. One thing he could admit muggles had going for them, they sure as fuck knew how to make alcohol. 

Pouring it into a glass, and not even bothering to make a mixed drink, he downed it in one gulp. The bite of Balkan 176 proof burned his throat as it settled warmly in his stomach. He’d never admit to anyone that he preferred a cheap muggle vodka to a fine firewhiskey, but alone in his own flat, he sure as hell could indulge in it. 

After a few more shots, he fell into his settee, thoughts swimming through the muck the alcohol turned his brain into. A grin spread across his lips as he recalled the embarrassed look Weasley sported while being yelled at by Ragmar. 

Though short-lived, it had been the most fun Draco had at those types of parties in years. Making fun of Weaselbee had ignited something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He almost felt... 

_ Playful. _

Memories of their school days crossed his mind while he laid there in the silence of his flat. Ron’s short temper always had him doubling over in laughter and all too eager to toss another insult or jab at him. The song he and the Slytherins had created all those years ago waded to the surface. 

_ Weasley cannot save a thing, _

_ He cannot block a single ring,  _

_ That's why Slytherins all sing:  _

_ Weasley is our King.  _

Chuckling to himself, Draco downed another drink, settled back on the cushions and closed his eyes. The calming warmth of the alcohol spread through his body and a small smile graced his lips while he hummed the song. 

After a short while, he fell asleep to the brilliant thought of singing it all day at practice tomorrow. 


	2. The First Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Draco has the first Quidditch practice for the new season. Ron isn't happy about having Draco on the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was written by StoriesbyNessie and as always amazingly beta'd by Kora. <3 I had SO much fun writing this chapter! KoraKunkel has a hilarious, perfectly sarcastic and snarky Draco that I love and had a blast with incorporating in this chapter. Ron is my adorable and somewhat dorky redhead, that as always is a joy for me to write. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. :)

**Chapter Two: The First Practice**

_Ron_

“Fuck’s sake! Why does _he_ have to be on our team?!”

Ron glared at the newspaper lying on the breakfast table in the breakroom. The front page showed Draco _fucking_ Malfoy accepting the official Chudley Cannons jersey in that familiar orange Ron had been loving since forever. Playing for his favourite team had been a dream of his since he was a tiny little boy and he was more chuffed than anyone that he was now their official Keeper. Ron had been on the team for a while now, and he still had to pinch his arm from time to time to confirm it was real.

At the age of twenty-five, he was living his best life; his old school enemy and former baby Death Eater and evil bastard _Malfoy_ was not about to ruin it. Ron’s face had fallen when Aiden announced the news yesterday afternoon and now it was all over the effing Prophet too. The moving picture of Malfoy accepting the jersey made Ron want to punch something. The only good thing was that at least Draco didn’t look all that smug in the photo as he usually did.

“Mad Seeker though, ain’t he?” asked Zachary as he flopped down beside Ron at the table after giving him a too hard pat on the back. “Fit as a fiddle too, wonder how much he can bench.” He reached for the orange juice and poured himself a large glass, shooting Ron a cheerful, wide grin. “Don’t worry, bud! Everything’s fine and dandy!”

_Yeah. Course it is. Everything’s bloody fan-fucking-tastic._

Ron scowled. He looked up from the newspaper and met Olivia’s eyes across him, who leant forward to pat his bare arm.

“Zach’s right, you know,” she said. “Malfoy’s an excellent Seeker and with him on the team, we’re almost guaranteed a victory. You know as well as I do that we need it.” The rest of the team hummed in agreement around the table. Ron’s hands balled into fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

Deep down, he knew Olivia was right. The Cannons weren’t doing well, not that they ever had really as long as Ron had admired them. But still though; it didn’t stop him from fuming. Malfoy was trouble, nothing more than a little shit.

Ron had been angry since yesterday when Aiden told them. He’d been even angrier during the party when Aiden actually had _smiled_ at Malfoy. He’d _been nice and welcoming_ when Malfoy had the audacity to interrupt their chat the moment Ron finally had a chance to be alone with the Quidditch captain. Aiden was always surrounded by a horde of desperate and giggling women, so the opportunity to catch him alone was rare. Ron always tried to be there whenever Aiden was alone, every second of attention the brown-eyed, curly-haired man gave him made his stomach flutter and heart sing. If Aiden only knew how much Ron wanted to have his hands on his body, to feel warm skin against his palms and press his lips against Aiden’s full, kissable ones. He’d caught Ron’s eye the minute Ron was signed to the team a little over five years ago, once things had settled from the war.

_Been in love ever since._

Just as Ron took a swig of his orange juice, the man of his thoughts walked right into the loud breakroom by the Quidditch pitch. Aiden’s honey-blonde hair was perfect as usual, not a curl out of place. His fringe almost covered one eye and Ron caught himself wishing he could brush it away.

“Morning lads,” said Aiden, flashing the whole team a brilliant, white smile. “And woman,” he added, giving Olivia a wink when he was met with a small protesting cough. “Listen up! I know we all might be a bit tired after yesterday’s party, but I hope you’re filling up your energy now. I need your sharp minds, cause today we’re training in our new Seeker!” He clapped his hands together to alert everyone’s attention.

Behind him stood Draco with his arms crossed over his chest, his slimy, pointed face making Ron’s skin crawl. His normally flawless, white-blond hair was on end this morning, it was nice to know that at least, even the big-headed, must-always-look-perfect Draco Malfoy could have a bad hair day. He had bags under his eyes and looked immensely tired, yet when he noticed Ron looking at him, he gave him a sneer that made Ron want to jump over the table and strangle him. Nobody else seemed to take any notice, least of all Aiden.

“Alright,” the Quidditch captain continued after the buzz had died down and the team’s heads all turned to him, “Who here has finished eating and can help me bring out the balls and brooms from the shed?”

“I’ll do it!” said Ron quickly, flailing his arms to get Aiden’s attention. He scowled when he saw Draco give a small snort behind Aiden and mouth the word “suck up” when he caught Ron’s eye. Ron blushed involuntarily at that; why didn’t anyone else see this?!

“Great!” Aiden rewarded Ron with one of his widest smiles that made Ron’s belly flutter and his skin tingle. He got to his feet in a matter of seconds, the legs of the chair scraping horribly against the battered, light wooden floor, the sound echoing in the room. Ron followed as Aiden turned on his heel and stepped out in the late-summer morning sun, not without purposely shouldering Malfoy on his way out, though. It may not have been his smartest or most mature decision, but just watching the mean expression from Malfoy’s face vanish at the sudden move provided him at least a little bit of comfort.

It was a beautiful day out, Ron noticed, squinting as he was hit with the brightness from the sun in his eyes when Aiden opened the doors. His wristwatch told it was nine o’clock and despite downing some firewhiskey and two beers last night at the party, Ron wasn’t feeling hungover at all. In fact, he felt more energized than ever. It felt good to see that Malfoy looked like shit, of course, the vicious snake was a fucking lightweight.

“So, you and Draco,” Aiden said suddenly, interrupting Ron’s train of thoughts. “You went to school together, yeah? Hogwarts, same year?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ron answered absently, a bit annoyed that Aiden asked about that slimy git. He restrained himself from adding that Malfoy was a _foul, evil little cockroach_ ; it would probably not sit very well with the Quidditch captain.

“Sort of wish I went to Hogwarts,” said Aiden and flashed Ron one of those smiles again that made him weak in the knees.

_Yeah, you’ve got no idea how much I wish you did too._

They reached the broom shed and Ron stood close as Aiden pushed the red-painted wooden door open. He could smell Aiden’s vanilla-scented shampoo from his position; it almost made him feel drunk. “As you know, the Wizarding School I went to in Austria wasn’t exactly the most homely. Didn’t help that we travelled a lot.”

“Yeah.” Ron smiled back. “Me and my family went to Egypt when I was thirteen. Visited my brother Bill. He lived there for a while.”

“Beautiful country, Egypt. Been there three times.” Aiden stepped into the dark broom-shed and cast a simple _Lumos_ with his wand so they could see.

_Egypt’s not nearly as beautiful as you though._

Ron didn’t say that out loud, of course, Aiden would probably think he’d gone mental. His eyes rested at the nape of Aiden’s neck, where his light curls laid flat against tanned skin. He fantasised about curling his arms around the other man’s waist, trailing his hands over the flat belly, hot skin again the palms of his hands. What wouldn’t Ron do to go beneath the white t-shirt Aiden had on this morning and nose against the side of his neck. To hear him moan as Ron mouthed that delicious medium-toned skin and kiss and suck bare flesh until Aiden would beg him to just fuck him. And Ron would, Merlin’s balls. Without so much as a doubt.

“Weasley...” Aiden turned unexpectedly, holding a broom in each hand. Ron only realised then how close he had been standing to him; they almost collided. Aiden let out a little laugh. 

“Watch it there,” he said jokingly and Ron felt his cheeks heat with the familiar warmth of his blushing. It felt as though he had been caught doing something forbidden.

_Well, picturing your own Quidditch Captain naked probably is, mate._

Aiden handed Ron the two brooms. “Here, take these out to the yard. Be careful with this one though,” he continued, shaking the broom he held in his right hand, “It’s Draco’s. The newest Firebolt, supposed to be fastest on the market. Can’t wait to see him on it.”

Ron gave the shiny broom in Aiden’s hand a moody stare. They must have brought Draco’s broom here before the party last night. Of course, Ron knew all about the new Firebolt’s abilities, too. It was so new it hadn’t even been officially released yet and the logo shone mockingly in the light of Aiden’s _Lumos_ spell. Ron had been admiring the Firebolt when _Seeker Weekly_ covered a whole spread about it last month and could only dream of ever be riding such a glorious thing. He wasn’t as poor as he used to be in his younger years, but playing for a team that was constantly in the bottom league didn’t exactly make him into some rich boy. He wasn’t bathing in Galleons like Draco always had.

_Course fucking Malfoy needed to have all the best stuff just to show off._

Ron reluctantly took the brooms; the weight of the Firebolt was heavy in his hand. The other broom was a Nimbus, belonging to Elijah and it felt cheap by comparison. He walked out of the shed, proceeding to lean the two brooms against the wall so he could bring out the others’ as well, when he was interrupted by a light cough.

“Careful there, Weasley,” Draco said in an airy, all-important tone. “I would rather not have your sweaty hands on my Firebolt. I’d need to have it sent to be polished it again, which is a shame since I just got it back last night…” He smirked evilly, causing Ron’s mood to sour further. He glowered at him and thrust the broom rather violently into Malfoy’s stretched out hand.

“I’m warning you Malfoy,” Ron said scathingly in a low, threatening voice. “You’re not supposed to cause trouble or - “

“I’m warning you, Malfoy,” Draco mocked. “Please, Weasley, I’d like to see you try.” He stepped forward a bit, walking right into Ron’s personal space before adding, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at Cooney at the party yesterday. Nice to see that things haven’t changed a bit since our school days, you know. Except for of course… You’re not a walking boner for Granger anymore, are you? Tell me Weasley, which deformity of hers eventually turned you off women?”

Ron paled. There was no way Draco could know, only his parents and Hary and Hermione knew he was gay.

As Draco cocked his head to the side, and the smug grin spread across his face, Ron realized he was _taunting_ him. Draco had no way of knowing Ron was gay, but the insinuation that Hermione had turned him off women... Ron’s hands ball into fists, he wanted to punch and kick and wipe that nasty expression off of Malfoy’s annoying face. Ron had forgotten his wand back in the staff room and Malfoy was just lucky he didn’t have it on him now or, or…

_Fucking hell, why does Malfoy always manage to bring out the worst in me?!_

“Ah, Draco, I see you’re getting acquainted with Weasley,” Aiden commented, poking his head out of the shed. He stepped out completely, holding on to a large chest with both hands, containing the Bludgers, Quaffle and the Snitch. Ron dropped the other broom which fell to the ground with a loud thump and rushed forward to help Aiden with the chest. The Quidditch Captain handed it to him with a grateful smile. Ron turned around again only to see Draco smirk in that annoying way he absolutely hated.

“Smooth, Weasley,” Draco mouthed and quirked his eyebrow. He lifted his chin. “Oh, Weasley and I are _great_ friends already, Cooney,” he said loudly as Ron glared at him and Aiden beamed before heading back into the shed.

“That’s great!” Aiden’s voice called in response.

_Fuck you._

Ron decided he would ignore it and not act on Draco’s rude little comments. The rest of the team members were dragging themselves out from the cabin now, all in various states of exhaustion. Aiden walked out with the rest of the brooms, leaning them against the wall of the broom shed while Draco stood by holding on tightly to that damn Firebolt.

“Can’t wait to see how you’ll handle the Snitch today, Malfoy!” said Aiden happily as he finally closed the door to the shed. “Weasley’s a great Keeper, I feel lucky to have such outstanding players on my team. This is the season when we finally bring the Cannons up from the bottom, eh?” Aiden flashed another brilliant smile and patted Ron’s shoulder.

“Oh, I bet he is.” Draco gave Ron another smirk. “Weasley’s our king, right?”

Ron narrowed his eyes. _The hell…_

“Yeah,” Aiden laughed. “Guess you could say that.” He moved away from them to greet Zach, Olivia, Elijah and Kit, who were walking towards them. Draco shot them a look before turning his attention back to Ron, looking thoroughly amused despite his tired eyes. Ron’s whole body felt tense; he was still holding the large, heavy chest and Draco’s horrible expression made him want to throw it at him to make him hurt.

Draco leant forward and started singing the familiar tune in a low voice:

_“Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King.”_

Ron hadn’t heard Malfoy’s little ditty since their school days when all the Slytherins sang it to tease Ron during the Quidditch matches. Just hearing the song so many years later, escaping Malfoy’s thin lips, brought back old insecurities Ron thought he had put behind him.

_That stupid fucking…_

Ron’s blue eyes shot daggers at Draco, and before Draco had finished the last verse, the chest slipped from Ron’s fingers and landed heavily mere millimetres from Draco’s left foot.

“Oops. Guess my hands are too sweaty. Sorry… _mate.”_ Ron enjoyed the outraged look on Draco’s face, albeit a tad disappointed the chest didn’t actually land on his foot.

“All right, team!” Aiden called once the whole team had gathered in a circle after everyone had taken their brooms. “As I said before, today is about training our new Seeker. I’ve only heard great things about you Draco, so I’m sure you’ll catch the Snitch in no time! Especially on that brilliant broom of yours…” He shot Draco an award-winning smile, the special kind of smile he only used for Ron. Flashes of jealousy rushed through Ron’s body at that, but he tried to ignore it.

Aiden started talking strategies, gesticulating wildly and preparing them all for the first game against Ireland in October. If this had been any other day, Ron would have paid attention, but Malfoy kept shooting him those bloody smug looks that caused Ron to feel both insecure and angry. Aiden’s voice subdued in his ears, the tips of them he knew were a furious shade of red already.

_Don’t lose your temper. Don’t lose your temper._ Ron chanted this over and over in his head, gripping his Cleansweep Eleven tightly, the same kind of broom he had had since he was fifteen.

“... Olivia, Kit, as I said before I reckon you need to work more on how you swing your arm, the secret lies within the motion…maybe more weight-training...”

Ron saw Draco roll his eyes.

“Zach, well done last week. And Eli, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about…”

_Don’t lose your temper. Don’t lose your temper._

“... It’s all about making the job easier for the Seeker…”

“Excuse me, Captain!” Draco said suddenly, raising his hand in the air as if they were in a classroom. “Will Weasley be able to prevent the Quaffle from going in? I’m just concerned as he has such an old broom, and I noticed it’s an outdated model. Surely it can’t keep up with the broom the Keeper of Kenmare Kestrels has? Would be a shame if we lost because Weasley can’t keep up with the rest of us, eh?”

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Aiden nodded eagerly.

“You know what, Draco, that’s an excellent question! Weasley, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your broom… It could use an upgrade, you know. If that can help us win the cup, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll provide you with some broom magazines this afternoon. As you know, each member is responsible for his or her own equipment, meaning that’ll come out from your pay…” Aiden talked rapidly and Ron felt like he was being scolded for the old Cleansweep in his hand. The Quidditch Captain had never said a word about his broom before. Ron scowled and Draco looked all too pleased with himself.

”Great!” Aiden exclaimed as if Ron had agreed. “Then, let today’s training begin, shall we?”

A few minutes later, seven brooms soared up in the air. Ron felt the slight chill from the morning air pinch his cheeks and the familiar quiver in the pits of his stomach he always felt when he kicked off the ground. It always gave him a feeling of joy, and it would have been the same today if Draco Fucking Malfoy hadn’t been on their team. Not that anyone would care, but if anyone were to ask, Ron would have had no problem with telling them _exactly_ how awful the first practice with the ferret was.

The Cleansweep really was rubbish compared to the others’ brooms, Ron realised, as he flew back and forth in front of the hoops at an infuriatingly slow speed. It seemed even slower since Malfoy pointed it out, too.

Zach tossed the Quaffle to Elijah, who flew against Ron with a face full of determination. He threw it into the ring before Ron could even react.

“Can’t keep up, can you Weasley?” Draco shouted from his broom. He swished by Ron’s right side for the third time in ten minutes. The new Firebolt was extremely fast; Ron couldn’t help but wonder if the speed made Draco nauseated. He _hoped_ it made Draco nauseated. In fact, he hoped Draco would fall off his stupid _perfect_ broom and hit the ground hard and never come out of the fucking hospital. Why couldn’t that annoying smirk be wiped off his slimy face? Why couldn’t…

“Weasley, pay attention!” Aiden cried as one of the unpredictable Bludgers was sent his way. He leant down over his broomstick, dodging it just in time to avoid getting badly injured.

“Sorry, Ron!” Olivia flew up to him, her face worried. “Are you okay? You know how mad those Bludgers are!”

“Yeah, yeah, course, I’m fine,” Ron muttered although Olivia couldn’t hear it. His cheeks reddened violently. He should have seen it coming but his eyes had been too busy looking at Malfoy rushing through the air like he was born to be on a broom. His eyes wandered to the blonde even when he didn’t want to because the Firebolt was just that fucking brilliant.

A few minutes later, Aiden’s whistle was heard as Draco suddenly came back after circling the pitch for what must have been the fifth or sixth time, the Snitch clutched in his right hand. The captain motioned for the whole team to get back to the ground.

“Brilliant!” Aiden yelled, patting Draco hard on the back once they all landed. “Just under fifteen minutes.” He checked the stopwatch hanging around his neck. “Fourteen minutes and twenty seconds to be exact.” He flashed a wide grin. “Victory’s in our hands this time, people! No more bottom of the league for us. Alright, quick water break and then back at it, let’s go!”

Draco was behind Ron, humming those awful bloody tunes again as Ron gulped down his water from one of the bottles Zach had brought out for them all.

“Would you stop that?!” Ron snarled, spinning around only to stare into Malfoy’s annoying silver eyes again and that wide, too-amused grin plastered on his ugly face. “Surprised you’re so bloody perky considering the nasty hangover I suspect you’ve got. Pretty out of it last night, were you?”

Ron recalled a memory from last night where he had seen Draco unable to keep his balance, after downing a large glass of firewhiskey. Clearly he couldn’t handle alcohol—it was nice to see that even the oh-so-perfect-at-all-times Malfoy had a weakness.

_‘Maybe I should sneak something in his water, so he’ll be too drunk to play’_ Ron thought bitterly and almost wanted to let out a laugh at the weird image that crossed his mind of a drunken Malfoy trying to mount his Firebolt only to fail miserably. What a sight that would be. Aiden wouldn’t be happy, he took everything seriously.

“Why would I do that, Weasley?” Draco smirked, sipping his water now next to Ron. “I’m only complimenting you.” He waved to Aiden who was a little further away talking strategies through with Zach. Ron saw Aiden wave back, and it made jealousy grow in the pit of his stomach.

It also hadn’t gone unnoticed that Draco completely avoided the jab at his drunkenness.

“So tell me, Weasley…” Draco said in a hushed voice, changing the subject quickly before Ron could say anything else. “How long have you been fancying the captain?”

Ron choked on his water. “I’m n-not!” he spluttered, face blushing an angry shade of red.

“I see the way you look at him, Weasley, I’m not blind nor daft,” Draco said. “You’re practically sucking his cock in your mind the way you look at him. Bet you’d love to do that for real though, wouldn’t you? How big do you reckon he is?” He waggled his eyebrows causing Ron to blush even more.

Draco was taunting him again and it pissed Ron off more than any other insult the blonde git had thrown at him. He didn’t know Ron was actually gay, and that made it even worse.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared loudly and the whole team turned their heads in Ron and Draco’s direction.

“Weasley! Language!” Aiden shot him an annoyed look, looking up from the conversation with Zach.

“Yes Weasley, _language,”_ Draco repeated and Ron squeezed the empty water bottle in his hand in his rage. “Don’t want to start any fights, do you? I’m sure Aiden wouldn’t like that…”

_Merlin’s fucking bollocks._

Practice was shit, Ron decided when three hours had passed and they were all sweaty and tired. The new season couldn’t have started any worse. With Malfoy on the team, Ron was sure he had been trapped in the deepest levels of Hell. What was worse than anything else, though, was that _everyone_ including Aiden seemed to appreciate having Malfoy there. The Captain kept timing him on how fast he caught the Snitch—it was extremely fast, and it wasn’t entirely due to the Firebolt.

Draco was fucking talented, and it bothered Ron to no end.

Not only did his teammates seem to appreciate Malfoy, they even seemed to actually _like_ him. He was nice and well-mannered and shot them smiles, though whenever he caught Ron’s eye he kept mouthing stuff, mocking him and humming the stupid _Weasley is our king._ Nobody else took any notice how Malfoy acted towards him and saying anything wouldn’t exactly do Ron any good.

_It’s like we’re kids again, back in the fucking Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. Except Harry isn’t here to back me up._

After the training was over and Aiden declared lunchtime, it was time to put everything back inside the broom shed. Just like always, Ron volunteered to stay behind and help, only so he could have Aiden’s attention all to himself for a little while. He liked being seen and feeling that he was wanted, even if it was just to gather the equipment their teammates haphazardly threw around like it was nothing. They were all so careless.

Luckily, Malfoy didn’t seem particularly interested to stay behind just to be snarky. He was happy to just throw Ron one last spiteful look and took his own broom back into the shed, saying something about how valuable it was and that he would rather take it back himself. Aiden said he understood and he guaranteed the Firebolt’s safety in the Chudley Cannons broom-shed, with all the protective charms he had put up there. Ron knew damn well how many protective charms there were on that fucking thing, he had helped Aiden put them up with all the special Auror-spells Harry had taught him. Ron watched as Draco sauntered off with his broom in hand, his muscles tense from the held-back anger. The rest of the team followed suit, leaving Ron and Aiden alone in the soft green grass.

“Brilliant, isn’t he?” Aiden said admiringly, staring after Draco as he walked. “How was he in school? Must’ve been the best Seeker you had, right? I’ve never seen anyone move so… gracefully.”

“No, he was shit,” Ron answered before he could stop himself. _Plus, Harry had been the best Seeker in school._

Aiden laughed and summoned the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch to put back into the chest. He struggled a little with fastening the two defiant Bludgers; Ron was quick on his feet to help him. Their hands touched, causing a shiver to work through his body.

_Fuck, you’re so gorgeous._

“You don’t seem to like Draco, do you, Ron?” Aiden asked as he locked the chest. “If you don’t mind me saying, I get a feeling you don’t.”

Ron shrugged, taking the chest in his hands as Aiden lifted it up and gave it to him. “Dunno, is that obvious?”

“A bit, yeah.” Aiden laughed again. They walked up to the broom shed together; Aiden pushed the door open and held it up for Ron to get inside first. He carefully set the large chest down and helped Aiden store the brooms away.

“Hey, give him a chance, will you?” Aiden said, his brown eyes gazing into Ron’s blue. It was like looking into pools of chocolate and Ron _loved_ chocolate. He could stare into those eyes forever. “I dunno how things were back in Hogwarts, obviously, but I’d like it if everyone on our team could get along. I want us to win this year. Besides, I like you, Weasley. You’re a brilliant Keeper; you just need a better broom. Malfoy’s right, you know.” He clapped Ron on the shoulder and headed out of the dark broom shed.

Ron blinked.

_I like you, Weasley._

The words echoed in Ron’s mind. Aiden might not have meant it _like that_ but the four words still made his belly flutter. Aiden had never said that to him before. Not really.

He had said Weasley too. Meaning he didn’t intend anyone else other than _Ron._

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Malfoy was an absolute dickhead. Ron could handle anything as long as he got to hear those words escape from Aiden Cooney’s lips.

_I like you, Weasley. I like you, Weasley. I like you, Weasley._

_Yeah? I fucking love you._


End file.
